See also: Adventure at Camp Cottage — click here
Julian bounded into the sitting room. The sun was shining brightly. My, the boy thought, what another gay day. The sun has been shining every day since I came to Camp Cottage to spend the summer with my Uncle Dick and Aunt Fanny.
“Does the sun never stop shining, Timmy,” he chortled to his cousin Timothy. The boy looked up from the map he was studying hard. “Only at night time, you chump!”
“Oh, ha! Ha! Very funny,” Julian loved his cousin, they had become great friends and he knew he was going to have a super hols being with him, but he was a little nervous that he was being made fun of.
“Well really, old chap!” Timothy beamed, his smile lit up his face. “Of course the sun always shines. Wouldn’t life be extremely dull if it didn’t.”
“It rains back home in the city,” Julian retorted glumly.
“That’s why you have to come to the country to have adventures. It never rains here in Westmoreland!”
“Jolly, super, I’m so glad I came.”
“Yes, I bet you’re jolly pleased that your mother and father left you behind when they went touring war-torn Europe taking Bibles to peasant people.”
“Oh rather! I am eighteen years old and could have stayed in our family house in the town, I suppose, but Father thought it would be better if I came here to Camp Cottage.” Julian pulled up a chair and sat beside his cousin at the dinner table. Only then did he notice he had a map unfurled in front of him. It was all yellowy and looked frightfully old.
“What’s that?” he asked cheerfully.
“It’s a map.”
Julian frowned, in case Timothy was pulling his leg again. “What’s it a map of?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant and not let on that he was desperately excited to know the answer.
“It’s a map of hidden treasure,” Timothy said, running his hand over it.
“Gosh! Hidden treasure, how thrilling!” Julian ejaculated, unable to contain his excitement. “Where did you get the map?”
Timothy beamed so that his whole face lit up. “Oh Ju!” he laughed, “You are such a Town Boy,” he ruffled his cousin’s untidy brown hair. “Don’t you know the country is practically full of maps of hidden treasure? Why, around here people practically trip over them all the time.”
“Golly gosh!” Julian still could not hide his excitement. “Where is this hidden treasure?”
“Who knows? It’s hidden, silly!” Timothy beamed and ruffled Julian’s hair again. He liked the way it felt so soft in his hand.
“Oh Timmy!” Julian huffed, “You know what I meant.”
Timothy beamed! He loved to tease his cousin, but he also wanted to share his secret with him. He hoped they would go off together on an adventure to find the treasure. “It’s an old school building just a few miles from here at Curran. It was abandoned at the start of the war. Look!,” he pointed to the top left hand corner of the map. There is a hidden cupboard of some sort behind a wooden panel. All we have to do it locate the room, find the panel and hey presto! the treasure is ours.”
“Yippee!” Julian screamed. “What an adventure! When can we go to discover the treasure?”
“Let’s do it right now. It’s such a beautiful summer’s day. We can cycle there. I have my bike and you can borrow my brother’s.”
“What a spiffing idea!”
“Yes, I’ll get Joanne, our family cook, to make us a picnic lunch. We can have Spam sandwiches and sticky buns!”
“Rather!” Julian ejaculated again with excitement, “And lashings of ginger beer!”
The two adventurers went to seek out Aunt Fanny to tell her of their plans. They found her asleep in a chair in the drawing room. “Yes, go! Go! Go!” she waved her arms and pointed to the door.
“I say, Timmy” Julian beamed, “Did you see how red her face was? I think she’s been in the sun too long.”
“Yes. Perhaps,” Julian replied quietly.
Soon they were ready to set off. The journey was about five miles and because both boys were very fit it wouldn’t take them any time at all. Timothy said they would ride through the village and then up into the hills, the school was in a very isolated spot. He led the way through Curran, they passed the post office, the little church and then the much larger pub. Suddenly, Timothy waved at Julian. He wanted him to stop. “What’s up, Timmy?” Julian asked, puzzled at why they had stopped outside a high wall that surrounded what appeared to be an apple orchard.
“I just wanted to get some apples,” Timothy said brightly.
“Apples?” Julian frowned. “Why do you want apples? We could’ve picked them from the trees in the garden at Camp Cottage.”
“Oh, don’t be a silly,” Timothy grinned. “This is much more fun!” He dismounted his bicycle and leaned it against the brick wall. “Here,” he chortled, “Give me a leg up, I’m going to scale the wall.”
“Oh my,” Julian suddenly realised his cousin’s jape. Oh, no, he thought, what a naughty thing to do.
“It’s only scrumping,” Timothy had read his pal’s thoughts. “This is the country, everybody does it,” he explained. “Now link your fingers together so I can stand on them. Julian’s heart raced. He was not usually a naughty boy! What adventures he was having at Camp Cottage! He linked his hands and Timothy stepped into them and with a fine athletic movement he climbed onto the top of the wall and let himself over to the other side.
Julian sat astride his bike, wheeling it backwards and forwards and anxiously looked up and down the road. What if somebody came along! What trouble they would be in! Suddenly, the top of Timothy’s head appeared over the wall, he pulled himself up and tumbled head first to the ground. He grinned at his cousin, “C’mon matey, let’s scarper!” Just as he mounted his bicycle an elderly man, dressed in baggy brown trousers and an old jacket with a flat cap on his head appeared at a gate in the wall.
“Grrr!” he called and shook his fist. “Grrr! I know you! You little blighter Bylton! Grrr! Stealing my apples. Grrr!” His face was purple with rage. The two boys sped off on their bicycles with the words of the angry old man ringing in their ears. “You wait Bylton! Wait till I tell PC Plank, the village policeman, what you did. Just you wait!”
The two boys peddled like fury for a hundred yards and when they were quite sure they were far enough away from the angry old man they stopped to catch their breath. “Oh, Timmy,” Julian said, his voice full of concern, “Do you think he’ll really report you to the village policeman?”
Timothy frowned, “Most likely, yes.”
“Oh dear, Timmy, I suppose he’ll give you the most frightful ticking-off,” Julian’s face was full of concern.
“Yes,” Julian examined the handlebars of his bicycle miserably, “Something like that, I suppose.” He wriggled his bottom on the hard seat of his bicycle. Then, his face brightened and he rummaged in the pocket of his short trousers. “Here catch!” and he threw a lovely juicy apple to his cousin. “It’ll taste all the sweeter now,” he grinned and the two boys munched away.
Oh my! If only they had cycled away and headed on their way to the treasure hunt PC Plonker would never have caught up with them. Instead, before they had finished eating they heard a horrid working class voice shouting, “Oi! Youse two. Bylton and t’other one, you just stay roight where you are.”
“Crikey, he does look angry,” Julian said. PC Plonker was all red in the face. He was a very fat man and he had his heavy blue tunic buttoned up ever so tightly. On such a lovely warm day as this that was a silly thing to do! The poor man was sweating so very badly. “Oi!,” he hollered again and peddled his bicycle until he came alongside the two naughty boys. “I heard all about it,” PC Plonker could hardly catch his breath. “I did indeed. Farmer Giles told me everything. Where are those apples? Give them here” PC Plonker held out his hand but Timothy only smirked. “Eaten. All eaten,” he grinned. “Here,” he opened the palm of his hand, “You can have the core if you want it,” he grinned cheekily.
“Pah! Bah! Bish!” PC Plonker took off his heavy helmet and rested it on the handlebars of his bicycle. Then he took a large white handkerchief from his tunic pocket and shook it about until it was open. Then, slowly, he mopped his brow and his big wobbly jowls. Then, he folded it up carefully and put it back in his pocket.
“My police house is over there,” he pointed down the country road. “Come with me you little perishers!” Julian blushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh my,” he said, “We are in trouble, Timmy.” His cousin frowned, “You don’t know the half of it, Ju. Really you don’t.”
In no time at all they were at PC Plonker’s cottage. It was a very small house and not at all like Camp Cottage. There was one small room and a kitchen downstairs and upstairs another room and a place for PC Plonker to wash. His toilet was a shed in the back garden.
PC Plonker was so very angry. “Get in there, both of you,” he growled and pointed to the kitchen. It wasn’t very big but there was a wooden table set down right in the middle. PC Plonker unbuttoned his tunic and all the fat from his belly flowed out over the waistband of his heavy serge trousers. Timothy stared at the big, wide heavy leather belt that held up PC Plonker’s trousers. All the water drained from Timothy’s mouth.
“You are nothing but little thieves,” PC Plonker told them. He was very angry and he waved his arms around. “What would your father say if I told him what you did?” Timothy blushed to his roots. He knew what his father would do, if he found out. Oh my! He didn’t want him to find out.
PC Plonker stood by the doorway of the kitchen and put his hands deep into his pockets. “Well young Bylton,” he growled at Timothy, “Youse been here before, youse knows what’s to ’appen.” Timothy’s mouth opened and closed but he couldn’t think of anything to say. “Youse was caught red-handed, youse was,” PC Plonker said with a glint in his eye. “Don’t blame me …” PC Plonker stopped talking then and Timothy and Julian both stared at the policeman as he took hold of his own belt and unbuckled it. Their eyes popped out on stalks when PC Plonker took hold of the belt and pulled it fast that whoosh! it came away from his trousers and flew through the air. PC Plonker’s belly was so fat his trousers didn’t fall down. Really, he didn’t need a belt at all. Well, not to keep his trousers up!.
PC Plonker folded the belt into three so that it was about fourteen inches long and he held it by the buckle. He swiped it against the leg of his trousers. His eyes narrowed and he stared right at Timothy. “Well young un,” he growled. “You know what to do.” Then he glowered at Julian. “You too, matey!” Julian stood still. He was very frightened. He didn’t like the look of that belt in PC Plonker’s hand, not at all. But, he didn’t know what PC Plonker wanted him to do. Julian looked at his cousin. He knew Timothy would know.
“Do like this,” Timothy whispered and then he undid the belt of his own corduroy short trousers. Julian gaped. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Slowly Timothy unbuttoned his trousers and let them fall down his thighs and his legs to the floor. “Go on,” he nodded to Julian.
Poor Julian was very flustered. Now, he knew what PC Plonker meant. Now, he knew why the policeman had taken off his belt. Oh my! Julian could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Oh my! He had been a naughty boy and now he was to be punished. He didn’t say a word, he just undid his own short trousers and he blushed to his roots when he saw his own underpants. But, he let the short trousers go and they whistled down to his feet.
PC Plonker snapped the belt between his hands. The crack! it made echoed around the small room. He stared right at Timothy and then he nodded at the boy. Timothy understood right away. He didn’t need to have it explained to him. He looked at his cousin and with his eyes he told Julian he must follow what he was about to do. Then, he turned to face the kitchen table. He nibbled on his bottom lip for a second and then he leaned forward. He went so far that his stomach lay on the cold wooden table top. He reached his arms out ahead of him and he gripped the edge of the table.
Julian watched. He was astonished. He could see his cousin stretched over the table and he saw the way the boy’s bottom was raised high. The underpants had stretched right across his buttocks and up into the crack between the two cheeks. “C’mon, lets-be-aving-you,” PC Plonker gasped and then because he didn’t think Julian understood, he explained, “Bend over the table, next to yer partner in crime.”
Oh my! Julian was so scared. He had never been spanked before. Not ever. Not even as a very little boy. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. If his father ever found out about this he would be so ashamed. Stealing! That was a crime. People went to prison for that. Somewhere in his head he heard a little voice. It was very faint, but it was also very clear. “Take your punishment,” it said. “You are a very naughty boy. You deserve to have your little bottom spanked.”
So, Julian shuffled over to the table and stood alongside his cousin. He could see him from the corner of his eye. Timothy was face down, with his stomach and chest along the table top. He held his bottom high and also gripped hold of the far edge of the table. Julian licked his lips and slowly let himself fall forward. In no time at all, he was spread-eagled alongside his cousin.
Oh my! PC Plonker looked down at the two naughty boys. What delightful targets they made. How he hated the posh boys from the village. They thought they were so much better than people like himself. Ha! Ha! He’d soon show them. He gripped hold of the belt at the buckle end and swished it though the air. Then, he stood very close to Timothy. The eighteen-year-old boy’s bottom twitched. It was the backside of a very naughty boy and was no stranger to punishment, but that didn’t stop it shivering in anticipation of the pain to come. PC Plonker held the belt high and swished it down with all his might and it smacked really hard across Timothy’s bottom. The naughty boy grimaced and closed his eyes tightly.
Then, PC Plonker took a step to his right so that he could get a good aim at Julian’s posterior. PC Plonker smiled when he saw the cheeks tighten up and pretended they were hard rubber balls. It was their way of trying to protect themselves. Whack!! The leather hit Julian right in the middle of his right cheek. PC Plonker hit him no harder than his companion, but Julian had never been spanked before and because of that it seemed to hurt him much, much more. He whistled through his teeth, the pain was like nothing he had felt before.
PC Plonker went back to Timothy and walloped him once more. Then it was Julian’s turn again. PC Plonker went from one to the other lashing his belt across the backsides of the two very naughty boys. Poor Julian; he twisted and turned with every stroke of the heavy, leather belt. His head nodded up and down, it hurt so much. But, valiant little fellow he hung on tightly to the table’s edge and not once did he jump to his feet so he could hop up and down and rub his scorching bottom.
Oh my! Timothy was a trooper. PC Plonker spanked him every bit as hard as he did Julian but Timothy was no stranger to corporal punishment. Yes, his bottom was sore but the belt was nothing compared to the swishy rattan cane that his housemaster used on him at school. And his father’s wooden paddle was harder and heavier than even PC Plonker’s thick belt. Timothy knew he could take it. He closed his eyes, kept his bottom high and held on tightly to the table. He would let PC Plonker get on with it. His punishment would be over soon enough.
Well, PC Plonker didn’t count the number of times he lashed those naughty bottoms, but he made sure that there wasn’t any part of them without dark-red lines. They were everywhere, right on the crest of the cheeks, and all over the mounds themselves and into the undercurves. PC Plonker even landed a few across the back of their thighs. On the naked flesh! Oh my! How that hurt. Even Timothy had to admit to himself that that hurt.
PC Plonker was a very fat man and very fat people are not very fit. They don’t have much energy and soon the policeman realised his heart was racing away with him. His shirt was soaked with perspiration and his head ached very badly. He might have a heart attack if he didn’t stop soon. So, he gave each cheek two more slaps (that’s eight slaps in total) and then wheezing mightily, he exclaimed, ‘Righty-ho! That’s you done,” and he sat down with a thump on one of the wooden chairs and tried to get his breath back.
Timothy was the first to his feet. He found his corduroy short trousers and he pulled them on and buttoned them up. Julian was not so fast. He stood up but had to hold on to the table for a little while. His bottom was very sore and before he found his short trousers that he had kicked half-way across the kitchen he gave his bottom a good rub. He kneaded them hard, but to his dismay it didn’t seem to ease the ache in his sit-upon. “Come on Ju,” Timothy was dressed now, “Let’s go.” Sorrowfully, Julian stepped into his short trousers and buttoned up. He was still rubbing the seat of his shorts when the pair picked up their bicycles.
“Come on Ju,” Timothy cocked his leg over the crossbar of his bicycle. “We’ve got hidden treasure to find,” he chortled as he peddled down the country lane.
Picture credits: B C Freeman / Skipper
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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
Charles Hamilton the Second